Coffee and Cigarettes
by MyNameIsCAL
Summary: Iggy is miserable seeing the flock happy, including Fang who seemingly abandoned them to live the good life. But an unexpected offer from Fang open's Iggy's eyes and he realizes that they just might be the key to each other's happiness. Iggy's POV; Figgy
1. Chapter 1

**Coffee and Cigarettes – Chapter 1**

By MyNameIsCAL

-Iggy's POV-

The outcast. I _was_ the outcast. Things fell in, and somewhat out, of place after we saved the fucking world. I had pushed Nudge away, chasing after Ella, but that had ended quickly when she went to college. Maybe she finally realized how pathetic I was, always reaching for a hand to hold, never able to do anything by myself without guidance. I was like a little kid, and she couldn't care for me while she was away. She found another guy. Someone normal. And while all this happened, Nudge fell for Gazzy and not only did I lose her, but I also lost my best friend when I tried to win her back.

Life for our not so little Angel was just so effing perfect. Maybe I was jealous, but she went on to college. Out of all of us, she was the only one trying to be someone, to amount to something that mattered in the world. Although, in a way, I always felt like she was cheating. It wasn't hard for her to get into everyone's heads, reading their minds and all.

As for falling out of place, Dylan got what he wanted. He won Max, but only because Fang had to be the stupid bastard he was and leaving us all behind. Things were easy on him though. He got out while he could, and now he was living large as a goddamned famous writer. He had something like five best sellers published. The funny thing was that he scored Dylan a job as his manager. That asshole was playing around with Max's feelings. Although Dylan had Max, the way she still talked about Fang made me wonder how Fang could throw her away like that, and yet still keep her hanging on a thread, talking to her all the time, sending her autographed books for her to keep. I swore to God if Fang ever came back, it would take less than a second for Max to throw herself back at him.

But despite Max and her feelings torn between Dylan and Fang, she was still happy. All of them were happy, and I not one of them gave a _shit_ about how I felt. I felt like I was nothing to them, just cooking the meals, sitting around the house all day, listening to Gazzy and Nudge, Dylan and Max, have each other. I had no one. Even though I was surrounded by the people who I called family, by the people I cared most about, I still felt alone.

Alone and pathetic.

It was time for dinner. I had cooked all of it, with a little help from Dylan. He was probably the only one I could bear to be around, but only because he didn't say much to me. Now that Max had finally accepted him, he tried to stay inside his boundaries.

"Hey, Iggy!"

I shuffled out of my room. "What?"

Max let out a sigh. "Will you come here for a sec?"

Grumbling in response, I made my way towards her.

"So I was talking to Fang last night," Max said.

"And he's taking a national book tour in like two weeks," Dylan added.

It was still weird hearing the two of them agreeing with each other, finishing each other's thoughts.

"And?" My impatience was growing.

"Well, he's offering to take you with him," Max replied. "Fifty stops, all around the US. He said maybe it'd be good for you to go around, visit some new places."

An offer like that from Fang surprised me. I couldn't even remember the last thing he had even said to me. It had been a long time since we had the entire flock together. Maybe Christmas of two years ago.

"You're kidding…"

"No, we're not." Dylan sounded like he was frowning. "I haven't a clue why he's going to tour to promote his book either. He could not write a single thing for ten years and still have enough money to support his lifestyle."

"How long is his tour?" I asked.

"About three months. You'll be home in time for Christmas." Of course Dylan knew all the details. "He's even offering to let you go stay with him until the tour starts. I told him that maybe you need a break from us, even if Fang isn't the one to talk."

"Maybe…maybe that'd be best then." I was agreeing for their sake. Part of me got the feeling that Max had been worrying lately about me, which made Dylan eager to set things back into order. Maybe Fang hadn't made this offer at all. Dylan was always pushing him to do this and that. Usually it was Max who stepped in to restore order between the two.

"Great." Max sounded relieved. "I'll let him know, alright?"

I nodded. Little did I know that this would end up changing the rest of my life…

* * *

><p>Max flew with me to Fang's house. She usually checked up on him every other week in person, staying the night. I often thought things went on between them, but he hardly greeted us when we got there.<p>

"He's usually absorbed in his writing," Max explained to me. "I just make sure everything around here is in order. It's a pretty big place, actually, and he does a good job of keeping things clean. He's got a library, a mini movie theater, an indoor pool, and a great view of the valley."

Library, movie theater, indoor pool? This sounded like a place a guy should be having a party, not locking himself up and writing all day. I didn't understand.

"Just a warning," Max added. "He doesn't do cooking himself. Usually, he gets takeout. Sometimes I have to go out and buy groceries for him. He doesn't leave much except to fly or to go to Dylan's office. Maybe you oughta cook for him or something."

I sat around with Max until dinner time. Fang emerged, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke.

"I ordered some pizza," he told us gruffly. "How've you all been?"

"Alright," I heard myself answer.

And Max whisked him off into more conversation before Fang could even say anything else.

Later that night I sat up late in the kitchen. Fang had taught me how to use the coffee maker after hearing that Gazzy had accidentally broken the one Max and Dylan had. It had been a long time since I had made coffee, and to sit there in peace and sip at it was refreshing.

Max had gone to bed a while ago, but Fang was still up writing outside. I poured another mug and made my way down the hall, walking slowly to make sure I didn't spill or crash into a wall.

"Hey, you're still up?" Fang put his hand around my arm, steadying me and then guiding me into a seat.

"Well, I made some coffee, thought you could use some." I let him take the mug from me. "You're smoking now?"

I heard him crunch out the cigarette. "Don't tell, Max. I only do it out here so she won't smell it when she visits."

I tried to hide my discomfort.

"I won't smoke around you." He let out a sigh. "Sorry."

We sat for a while in silence, sipping our coffee. I was probably invading his space by being here, but part of me wondered if I should try to strike up a conversation. You would think after not seeing, or well, not being around each other for a long time that we'd have things to discuss. Fang was always the quiet one. It was usually Max who could rouse a conversation out of him, but perhaps his distance from us had only made him more introverted.

"Thanks for the coffee." He surprisingly broke the silence first.

I shrugged. "No problem."

"The one thing I miss about being around the flock is your cooking." That, perhaps, was one of the nicest things Fang had ever said to me.

"Well, it's definitely different without having you around," I managed to say.

Fang let out a breath, almost as if he was stopping himself from laughing. "How's Max been doing without me?"

"She's been alright. You know, Dylan's still trying to win her over, but she's still in love with you." I drained the last of my coffee before continuing. "She worries about you too, not as much as she did before, but it ticks Dylan off."

"Naturally," he muttered. "You should get some sleep. Max says I should take you to the grocery store and you'll cook."

He was changing the subject on purpose to avoid me asking why he left.

"Alright." It wasn't my business anyway. He had his reasons. "Goodnight."

"Night, Ig."

* * *

><p>Max left after breakfast, which was just toast and butter. Fang retreated outside for a cigarette after she left, and then we were off to town.<p>

He had a black sports car. That was what I could tell from touching it and hearing it anyway. It was a relief to hear that his musical tastes hadn't changed much over the years, and it also filled our silence. I still couldn't understand why he had offered to let me hang around him. It wasn't like we were best friends or something, not like we talked or anything before.

Then again, maybe he was lonely. Lonely just like me. I had only agreed to coming here because of that. Maybe Dylan or Max had suggested the idea to him. The only thing I hoped was that I wasn't bothering him.

Unlike the flock, Fang wasn't a picky eater. With Nudge, I always had to worry about making something vegetarian for her. Max also liked to keep it healthy, and quick, so that cut down a lot of things that I wanted to make. Fang told me to pick out whatever I needed to cook for the next week. It took us a good hour to gather all the food, but he was relaxed about it, which was somewhat comforting.

"Hey, you're Fang, right?"

Fang let out a sigh. "Yes, I am."

"I'm really excited about your new book!" The voice came from a man, or I guess it could have been a teenager. Hard to tell when you can't see.

"Well, thanks." It was hard to believe Fang was going to tour the United States. He already sounded disinterested that someone recognized him.

"I know you're probably busy, but I was wondering if I could get an autograph," the man said.

"Sure thing."

"Thanks so much."

"What's your name?" Fang asked.

"Jim," the man answered.

There was a scratch of pen against paper.

"Thank you again!"

"No problem."

The man walked away and Fang let out a sigh. "Shall we go pay now?"

We loaded up his car with the food without incident.

PAGE BREAK!

I sat in the kitchen feeling stupid. Fang had gone off to write, so I was left to start after we put the groceries away, but I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to cook by myself. Even at home Max or Nudge or Gazzy would help me.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I muttered.

Fang sat down next to me. "Iggy, if you needed help cooking, I would have stopped to help you."

Fang being nice? Well, it wasn't that he was never nice, it was just I wasn't used to him going out of his way.

"By the time we finish, it'll be late," I told him.

"So what? We've got all the time in the world." He stood. "What do you need me to do?"

By the time we finished, it was almost eight o'clock. He even opened a bottle of wine.

"Aren't you going to have some too?" Fang only put down one glass on the table.

He seemed to hesitate. "Uhm, no. I guess I should explain that to you."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I've been diagnosed with depression." Fang say, opening a can of soda now. "My doctor has me on some medication. Antidepressants and whatnot."

"Oh…"

"It's alright." He let out a sigh. "I just figured if I'll be spending the next few months with you that you deserved to know."

That troubled me. We could have helped Fang. He didn't have to shut us out. I wanted to ask him why he had pushed himself away from us over the years, but I got the feeling that this wasn't the appropriate time to ask, that if he wanted to tell me things, then it would all come with time.

"It's ok, really." He was filling my silence because I was too busy thinking to myself.

But before I could even say anything, the he changed the subject and started to talk about dinner, my troubled thoughts slip away as he poured me a glass of wine.

PAGE BREAK!

The RV was packed. Our first stop would be Seattle, Washington. Fang was on the phone with Dylan as we pulled out of the driveway. Dylan was telling Fang about how he would meet us in Seattle at the hotel he booked. Fang seemed irritated, only giving him one word answers.

"If you get tired, then you should stop and rest." I could hear Dylan lecturing Fang. "You have plenty of time to get there. Three days. There's no reason you won't make it in time."

"You're the one that's in a rush," Fang grumbled. "I shouldn't even be driving and talking to you at the same time."

"Alright, alright," Dylan sighed. "Look, my flight leaves out the day after tomorrow. I'll see you soon. And do me a favor and call Max when you stop for the night."

"Okay." Fang hung up.

We didn't talk much for the first twenty-four hours of the trip. I had slept on the couch, leaving the bed to Fang since Dylan had forgotten to reserve a RV with bunks, but Fang had managed to stay up, running on coffee I had been making for him and cigarettes. Finally, on the edge of the border of Washington State, he found a camp to park the RV at, and we stopped to get some food.

After we finished our food, I heard him unscrew something.

"It's my medication," he informed me.

I started to gather the garbage, stuffing it into a plastic bag, occupying myself so I wouldn't have to respond.

"I think I owe you more of an explanation." He took the bag from me. "It's not fair to you if I drag you around with me for three months and don't say a word to you about anything."

"You know, I'm just glad to have a chance to do something different," I said lamely.

He let out a sigh. "I left because I didn't want to hurt Max. I didn't want to hurt any of you either. You could say I'm a coward too, but that's beside the point."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm gay, Iggy."

"Wh—What?"

He repeated himself.

"You left because of that?" Somehow his confession didn't faze me. It was the idea that he had run from us instead of opening up. We wouldn't have pushed him away. After all we had been through together, the last thing that ever crossed my mind would be to kick him down just because of how he felt.

"Well, yes. You're not…" He paused. "It doesn't bother you?"

"It bothers me that you think we'd disown you or something," I replied. "That shouldn't change how much we care about you, not after we've had each other's backs for all those years."

"But you were all happy, and if I stuck around even if I told you all, Max would never get over it." His voice quavered. "And Dylan's better for Max, but she'd never see that if I was still around. I don't love her the way she loves me. I couldn't force myself to be in a relationship with her. I didn't want to ruin our friendship. I didn't want to tear the flock apart."

I used to be jealous of Fang. Even when he left because he became so successful in his writing, but now I understood why he was so pained. Even with all of us around, he still felt lonely. Even if Max had moved on and accepted Dylan, he still wouldn't be able to watch us all be happy when he wasn't. It was at that moment that I realized Fang and I had a lot more in common than we thought. I had grown sick of being around people who were content with their lives. We were waiting for our happy endings after the mess we had fought our way through, yet God still seemed to think it was funny to watch us struggle still. It didn't seem fair.

"I'm tired of being unhappy though," Fang continued. "And Max talked about how upset you had been, well it reminded me of me. I guess I thought if I could make you a little happier that it'd make me feel better. I know I'm not the best company either, but there was no way I was going to make it cross country in an RV with Dylan and back. And I guess I'm hoping that maybe I'll find a way to sort myself out after seeing some new scenery. Maybe I'll find a person who understands me, someone I can fall stupidly in love with, someone who I can promise that I'll never let them go, ever."

That had to be the most Fang had ever said to me. I suddenly felt stupid for feeling so unhappy before. Fang had isolated himself because of his unhappiness. He probably thought I was a fool to not be happy with Max and the others taking care of me, that I wasn't hiding some big secret that I thought might bring the walls of our lives plummeting down.

"I'm sorry, Fang," were the words that slipped from my mouth.

"Don't be," he said, almost sounding un-Fanglike. "It's not your fault."

And yet I still couldn't shake the feeling there was still something else he hadn't said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Coffee and Cigarettes – Chapter 2**

By MyNameIsCAL

I couldn't sleep that night.

Fang had knocked himself out with his sleeping meds, leaving me up and alone. There was one bed and a couch, which I slept on, and I listened to the rain and Fang's light snores, wondering how things had gone so wrong.

The last time I had spoken to Ella was at Christmas. She was working at Dr. M's veterinarian office, ready to be next in line to helm the place when Dr. M finally decided she was going to retire. I would always be reluctant about the relationship I had with Ella. Things had fallen apart once she went off to college. I always blamed myself for being too needy, but Max always insisted that it wasn't me, that Ella had met another guy who pushed her to leave me, and we were never able to reconcile after the bad break up.

There was no hiding my jealousy. At first I thought I'd be content without her, but after I realized that chasing Ella had closed my door that connected Nudge and me. Gazzy had won her over, and I was left with nothing. It was some kind of messed up joke, at least that was how I felt. As time progressed, my envy only grew worse, and as much as Gazzy and Nudge tried to be nice with me, there were strains on our relationships that would probably take years to go away, especially in the state I was in now.

My troubled thoughts followed me as I drifted off, turning my dreamscapes into nightmares. It was that nightmare where I'd end up alone, alone and with no one to help me, and no one wanting to help me. I'd reach out, but they'd all turn from me, like they didn't know me at all. Max, Gazzy, Angel, Nudge, Ella, and even Dr. M and Dylan.

"Iggy!"

I bolted up, reaching out to grab whoever was trying to attack me, but then I realized Fang was shaking me awake.

"Jeez, you were muttering in your sleep." He released me. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It was just…just a nightmare." I couldn't shake the feeling though. It already felt like it was going to be one of those days that every single little thing would bother me. Had Fang became the way he was because he thought like this, about being alone?

I stood, leaving the blanket on the couch, joining him in the front seat. He had been the only one absent in my nightmare.

"We've got two more days, but our hotel reservation isn't until the day after tomorrow," Fang informed me. "I'm going to stop at another RV camp. It's still a few hours away. We can get some food too."

I ran my fingers across the window. "Alright."

The hours ticked by sloth-like. I tried listening to music, I tried listening to some books I had on my iPod, but nothing was keeping me distracted from thinking about Fang's confession from the other night. It made me want to be angry with him for not telling us, but it also made me feel stupid because I certainly wasn't dealing with my own problems well either. I didn't exactly try to reach out to him either. All my thoughts were starting to contradict one another that I didn't know what to think anymore. Fang had changed, but he was still himself too, quiet as ever, Mr. Rock. Maybe that was the problem too. He wasn't all about the touchy-sharey-feelings kind of guy.

Then again, neither was I. I just wanted to hate the world and hate everyone who was happy because I couldn't be content with what I had.

"I'm going out for a smoke." We had just finished eating dinner. "The rain is letting up. Would you mind making some coffee?"

"Sure." I waited for him to leave me before I started to move around. It was a relief to have a minute alone, to be the only one breathing the air in here.

I could have sat there thinking for days and days, but the coffee maker beeped, and I knew Fang was trying to cut down on his smoking, so it was probably best I told him it was ready. Stepping outside, it was drizzling. Unlike California, it was cold and damp here.

"Coffee's ready," I told him.

He dropped his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his foot in the leaves, producing a crisp crinkling sound.

"Can I ask you something?"

The question was simple, and yet, it caught me off guard. "Of course."

He was facing towards me now. "Does it bother you?"

"What?"

"Does it bother you that I'm gay?"

I stood, processing the question for a moment. "It bothers me that you thought we'd hate you for it. That you've suffered all these years alone."

"I'm sorry…"

"Why are you sorry?" I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to edge away my anger. "I'm sorry too."

I turned to go back inside, but he grabbed me by the wrist. "Then what else has been bothering you all day?"

"I've just been thinking about how unhappy you and I are." I shook him off. "I can't accept that I'll always need help, I'll always need someone to rely on. I'm always going to be a burden to whoever has to take care of me. Even Ella got tired of it. Look at Max and Dylan trying to force me away, pushing you to look after me."

"I really did suggest that you come with me," Fang said. "After Max had been talking about unhappy you were...It was my idea."

"You have all the money in the world, Fang." I balled my hands up into fists. "You have the ability to get whatever you want, and yet you're still unhappy. It's not fair. You were always the fighter, always the one taking blows for us, and God can't even spare you, can't even give you a break. I don't understand how everything can still seem so cruel even though we're not battling scientists anymore."

"Iggy…"

"Out of all of us, you deserve better than this. I shouldn't even be alive. You could have left me to die. There were times that my blindness almost got you all killed." I took in a breath. "After all we've been through, this is the last place I've ever seen ourselves being, depressed and hoping for something good to come along. We've been waiting all our lives for things to work out, and aren't you tired of waiting? I feel so bad for you. I…I…"

He suddenly drew his strong arms around me, and I realized I was crying, my tears mixing with the cold rain.

"I'm sorry, Fang." I felt pathetic, crying like this.

"Don't be. I'm sorry I-I didn't mean to upset you." He squeezed me closer.

These were the tears I had been holding back for an eternity. They weren't meant to be held.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, clutching onto the back of his shirt, trying to suck in air.

And that was when he leaned in and kissed me. Just like that. I took in a breath, my tears suddenly no more.

"No one's ever understood my frustration," he breathed out. "No one's cried for me except myself, up until now, Iggy."

"I—" But my words got stuck in the back of my throat.

"I can take care of you, Ig," he whispered. "Then maybe you and I can be a little less lonely together."

He sniffled, leaning against me. I realized he was crying too, and I settled my arms around him, rubbing his back between his wings. Suddenly, I never wanted to let go. We stood there like that in the pouring rain for what seemed like eons, and that was the first time the idea that I could ever have feelings for Fang surfaced in my head.

* * *

><p>I woke up wrapped in a blanket. Unlike the night before, I was on the bed instead of the couch. It was still raining and the RV was moving again. I sat up, wanting to get out of bed, but then I caught a whiff of Fang's scent.<p>

_It was just a kiss._

I lay back down, burying my face into the blankets, breathing in. It smelled like him. That mix of faint cigarette smoke and a smell I could only call his.

_It meant more than that though._

I could have stayed in that bed forever, but the RV came to a stop, the engine cutting out. We weren't on the highway anymore. In fact, cars rushed past us, the sound of horns and clicking of crossing signals. We had reached Seattle. I sat up, swinging my feet over the side of the bed.

Fang had disappeared outside to smoke, so I moved to the coffee maker. Just as it finished brewing, Fang came back in.

"Morning," he muttered.

I let him pour the coffee for us. He sounded tired, and I guessed he hadn't slept since making sure I went to sleep in the bed last night.

"We're in Seattle now." He guided me into a seat at the table. "We can go to our room after lunch."

"So what am I supposed to do when you're at the book signing?" I asked.

"You can come and sit with Dylan. Or you can stay at the hotel. I made a dinner reservation for us. It'll be late though." He sounded distracted, sipping his coffee. "I have to call Max when we get to the hotel. She's probably worrying about us."

I hadn't even thought about calling her since I left.

Fang finished his coffee and left me, saying that he was going to start driving now. Dylan had just landed and he'd be at the hotel in an hour.

* * *

><p>We were met by a, well, unpleasant surprise when we arrived at the hotel. Dylan was waiting for us in the lobby of the hotel with someone who needed to learn that there was no need to use an excessive amount of perfume.<p>

"Who is this?" Fang asked, annoyance already creeping into his voice.

"This is Mal," Dylan said, trying to sound cheerful. "She's my new assistant."

Fang took a moment to say something. "Alright, well, I'm sure you know who I am then, Mal."

"Absolutely!" I could hear Fang's wrist crack as she shook his hand. "I'm a really big fan, sir."

"Well, why don't you go up and we'll meet you before it's time to leave right back here?" Dylan cleared his throat.

Fang let out a grunt and I followed him away to the front desk. He checked in and we made our way to the elevator.

Once inside the room, I showered and then Fang did. He had gotten me clothes to wear for dinner, and since I decided I would go with him to the signing, that was what I would wear since we would head to dinner righter after it was over. Just two of us, he had told me. And it was on the formal side. I wondered if that was supposed to mean something.

The car ride to the bookstore was a conversation between Dylan's flow of words, Mal's inappropriate add ins, and Fang's one word responses grunted back. When we got there, we entered through the back. I wasn't sure if it was the manager or the owner of the store who greeted us, showering Fang with gratitude and compliments. Fang thanked him in return for letting him come. He could be nice when he needed to be.

I sat between Dylan and Mal, behind Fang where he stood talking to the fans who were in chairs and crammed standing against the walls.

"How have things been with Fang?" Dylan asked me quietly as Fang began to read a passage from one of his books.

Interesting? Definitely better than home. But I couldn't tell Dylan that. "It's been good, I guess. It's nice to travel. Seattle's been interesting with its rain."

"Max says that if you ever want to come home, I can always book another ticket and we'll get you back as soon as we can," he said.

"I think I'll be alright. Fang's turned out to be better company that I thought," I admitted.

"Is that so?" Mal questioned. "He seems like he can be a real asshole sometimes."

Dylan let out a sigh and I gave her no response.

A few minutes later, she spoke again. "He's a brilliant writer though."

"I don't think he means to be an asshole," I said. "It's just the way he is. His mind is on one track, and anything else that doesn't pertain to what's on his mind is irrelevant."

We sat in silence, listening to him read. When he was finished, he took some questions. Most of them were about his book, but then someone struck him with a personal one.

"Are you seeing anyone?" the fan inquired. It was a female by the sounder of her voice.

"Seeing someone?"

"You know, like dating."

"Uhm, no," Fang answered shortly.

"Then will you marry me?"

He allowed himself to chuckle. "No, I'm sorry. I've turned down a lot of people already though. I'm sure you understand."

She laughed, and then the procession of fans wanting autographs began. Fang was kind to all of them, agreeing to pose for multiple pictures. He still answered questions fans were asked and obliged to personalize each of his autographs. It was nearly ten thirty when the last fan left, one who hadn't even gotten a ticket, but Fang had let in himself.

The manager thanked Fang profusely. Fang signed a few more to leave for the employees and then we left.

* * *

><p><strong>Whoa put up the wrong chapter it was from another story. Sorry guys!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Coffee and Cigarettes – Chapter 3**

By MyNameIsCAL

**I just realized I posted the wrong chapter for chapter 2. It was actually a chapter for another story, so if you could go back and read chapter 2 and then this one, everything would make a whole lot more sense. I'm really sorry!**

The restaurant was right on the beach, away from the outskirts of the city. It smelled like the ocean. I hadn't been to the beach in so long. Part of me wondered if Fang knew that, or if it was just a coincidence he brought me here, that maybe he had been here before. Either way, he certainly had a good taste in food. I thought we had been so far apart before, but maybe we had more in common than we knew.

He read me the menu. I knew what I wanted already once he was halfway through the entrée part, but I couldn't help but sit there and listen. Rarely did anyone back at home read me the entire menu. They'd pick out things for me to choose from, and often times I'd found out there was something else I wanted instead of what they thought I wanted.

Fang ordered our food and even a glass of wine for me. I found myself asking what he would do if the fans ever found out.

"They'll know some day," he replied. "My next book involves a gay character. I'll read you part of my manuscript when we have time."

The wine came and I sipped at it, listening to the clinking of silverware around us. We sat in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. I felt like he _knew_ I was listening, and it was like he was listening too.

After dinner we had to search for a cab. It was late, Fang told me. Past midnight. Dylan had called him several times, but Fang had a knack for making people worry by ignoring them. The rain started to pick up and we took refuge under an awning.

"I didn't bring a coat for you," he muttered, wrapping something around me.

It was his coat. I could tell because it smelled like him. Fang took my hand and led the way down the sidewalk. We finally found a cab four blocks later.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?"

Mal greeted us at the door of the hotel.

"At dinner." Fang replied curtly.

"Could you at least answer your phone once?" Dylan let out a heavy sigh. "I really hate when you do that, when you ignore me."

"You were interrupting my dinner."

I realized Fang was still holding my hand, but both Mal and Dylan seemed too infuriated to notice.

"I don't need to be babysat, Dylan," Fang snapped. "In fact, you wouldn't give half a damn about me if it weren't for Max, so why don't you just stop pretending?"

"I do it because I love her, Fang. I didn't just walk away because I couldn't handle things." Dylan growled through gritted teeth. "This isn't the way to start all of this off. You can do your whole tour by yourself. I don't think you'd last a day."

Fang let go of my hand. He lunged forward, grabbing Dylan by the front of his shirt. "I love Max as much as you love her, Dylan. But you wouldn't even understand if I told you. You'd still think I'm the dirty scumbag you've made me out to be. But I didn't just do it for me. I did it for you, Dylan. I did it because I knew you were better for her."

Then he let go of Dylan and grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the elevator.

We stood in silence for a long time.

"Are you okay?" I managed to ask.

His grip loosened on my hand. "I wish I could tell him sometimes. I just…I don't know what I'd actually say. Maybe I'm a coward, Ig."

"You're not a coward."

He let out a laugh. "I'm glad you think so."

When we got back to the room I let Fang shower first since he was the one soaked from the rain. I sat and thought about all that had happened over the past few days.

_Do you realize how happy he makes you, Iggy?_

I closed my eyes.

He kissed me. It was just a kiss, but I couldn't help it meant something more. And all the hand holding. I was letting him do it though. I _wanted_ him to do it.

Fang interrupted my thoughts about him as he came out of the bathroom. I heard him open our suitcase and dig through the clothes.

"Here I got your clothes out," he said. "I'll leave them on the counter. I think I'm going to go apologize to Dylan. I'll be back in a little bit."

It was nice to stand under warm water instead of chilly rain. I stood there for a while, still thinking about Fang.

_I'm not gay_. I ran my fingers through my hair. _But you have feelings for him. Ones you can't explain_.

I was leading him on, that's what.

_He said he could take care of you._

I finished washing myself and then I turned off the shower. When I got out of the bathroom, Fang still wasn't back. I let out a sigh and settled into one of the beds, thinking of what I was going to say to Fang.

Fang seemed to be in a better mood when he came back, but I didn't ask about what he had said to Dylan.

"Fang?"

"Yes, Iggy?" I heard him sit on his bed.

"I'm…I'm not gay."

Fang turned off the light. "I know, Iggy. I'm sorry. Maybe I've crossed the line."

Then he turned away from me and said nothing more.

* * *

><p>Las Vegas was our next stop. Fang was in a lousy mood because Mal had to ride in the RV with us as we drove there. She was complaining to me about him.<p>

"I'm stopping at a hotel and leaving you there!" Fang finally snapped. "Find another way to get to Vegas. I hope you know I can hear everything you've said."

The RV came to a stop and he flung the door open.

"You're kidding, right?" Mal asked.

"No. Get out!"

She picked up her back and stormed off. Fang slammed the door shut and a few seconds later, we were moving again. Deciding it was better to leave him alone, I settled on the couch and fell asleep.

It only seemed like a short time later that his voice woke me. He was on the phone with someone. I knew he was talking to Max. He only ever talked to her like that.

"Max, there are thousands of other of agents out there who would kill to have me as their client. I don't know why Dylan feels that he's _entitled_ to his job," Fang said angrily.

I could just make out what Max was saying. "Dylan doesn't know how to act around you. He thinks you're going to come back and sweep me off and away from him."

"Max, I wouldn't do that." He let out a sigh. "He's making this a competition and it's not. It never was."

"Do you love me, Fang?"

He didn't hesitate. "Of course I love you, Max. You know that."

"Then why don't you come back home?"

Now it seemed like a long time before he answered. "I will always be your best friend. Dylan makes you happy. He cares about you and he's everything I won't be—"

"That's not true!"

"Max, listen to me! I have a reason why I left, but I can't tell you. I'm not ready."

"Then how long do I have to wait? How long, Fang? I need…I need to know if I should move on," she said, voice quavering. "I need closure or I need to know you're going to come back."

Fang said nothing.

"I can't lead on Dylan anymore. Fang, please come back." There was a pause. "Fang, I won't be hurt if you say no. I'll never stop being your best friend either."

He let out a breath. "I promise I always loved you. I still do…"

"I know, Fang."

"But Max." He let out a breath and took another one in. "I-I'm gay."

Fang opened the door and exited the RV. I could no longer make out Max's voice.

"I'm sorry," was the next thing I heard him say.

There was silence.

"I should have told you…I know, Max. I shouldn't have assumed you would all be upset…No, I don't want to tell the others. I want to tell them though. I just need time…Does Iggy know?" He didn't speak for a long time, and then, "Max, I think I'm in love with him."

I imagined Max trying to be supportive. Even though she had grown tired of my misery, she never stopped trying to make me happy. I knew she wasn't just going to turn her back on Fang.

Fang didn't come back into the RV for a while after he got off the phone with Max. I could faintly smell cigarette smoke though.

When he did come back in, I was wide awake, my thoughts churning with what I had just heard in his conversation with Max.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "I have some cereal we can eat."

Fang poured a couple of bowls and we sat there eating.

"I told Max," he said.

"I know, I heard you." Only after I said that did I realize I should have pretended to be surprised.

"Ah," he remarked. "I just thought she deserved to know."

I nodded and we continued to eat without another word.

But Fang in love with me? I guess I knew it by all the things he had done for me. I just couldn't understand why. Besides, I told him I wasn't gay. Then again, that wouldn't matter to him if he really felt that way. Only now did it hit me that I was in denial. Fang loved me, and he had made it so obvious, but I didn't want to admit that's what was going on. I didn't want to admit that maybe I loved him too.

* * *

><p>We arrived in Vegas around 5 PM. Fang was eager to check in and go to dinner before Mal could tag along. He seemed to be in a better mood as we made our way to dinner in a cab. I could hear the noise and music fade in the distance as we moved further away from Las Vegas. To be honest, I was anxious. This wasn't just dinner for the sake of having dinner. Fang was trying to win me over. As much as I wanted to forget, his conversation with Max was still on my mind.<p>

The cab finally stopped and Fang helped me out.

The place felt small, but it smelled of good food.

"There'll be live jazz music in half an hour," Fang said.

"Fang! Oh, it's so good to see you!" A booming voice came from our left.

"Hey, Michael!" Fang greeted him warmly. "How have things been?"

"Great! Business has been as usual. I was hoping you would stop by when I heard you were going to be in town. And who's this? Your boyfriend?"

"He's just a friend," Fang insisted.

"Ah, well, let me get you a table." Michael clapped his hands together. "You let me know if you need anything. Shall I send out your usual course?"

Michael seated us away from everyone else. The room was filled with quiet chatter and the sounds of the band warming up. It only seemed like there were several other people in the room anyways.

"Soda, right?" Michael asked.

"Yes, thanks, for remembering."

"Sure, I'll be back."

I listened to Michael's footsteps fade into the distance.

"Michael is my ex-boyfriend," Fang explained before I could ask. "We had our differences. He runs this place with his partner, Ben, now. Michael runs the kitchen and Ben's in the band."

"So what happened between you two?"

"He wanted to live in the city, but I wanted my peace. Michael's a good guy and a good friend, but I don't think he really ever understood how I felt."

The band began to play and we sat there listening. It was really something different to hear jazz music being played live. If Fang was out to impress me, then it certainly was working. When our first course came, I total forgot about my conflicted feelings for Fang and the conversation I had overheard.

It was at the end of our five course meal when it came rushing back though. The band was playing its last song. A slow ballad, nonetheless.

"Will you dance with me, Iggy?"

I hesitated. _Iggy, you'd be a fool to say no_.

I let him take me by the hand to the center of the dance floor. He placed his one hand on my side, his other hand still in mine. We went in slow circles, almost to our own rhythm instead of the band's. I realized I was enjoying this, and as the song started to end, I wished we could have stayed there all night.

"Thank you," Fang said, lifting my hand.

"You're welcome." I was grinning stupidly at him now.

He pressed my hand to his face. That was the first time I had ever felt Fang smile.

And then he pulled me close and into a kiss. I gave in and wrapped my arms around him, closing my eyes.

I realized that the applause was not for the band. In fact it was _from_ the band for Fang and me. Fang chuckled and we broke apart.

"I'll be right back," Fang said after making sure I got into my seat. "I have to go to the bathroom."

I sat there, stirring my coffee. Did that just happen?

"You're a lucky man."

I almost jumped out of my seat.

"Jeez, didn't mean to scare you!" It was Michael.

"Sorry, I was just thinking," I let out a laugh.

"He never looked at me that way." Michael let out a sigh. "Don't let him get away. You'll be sorry."

"Thanks," was all I could say.


	4. Chapter 4

**Coffee and Cigarettes – Chapter 4**

By MyNameIsCAL

In spite of myself, I was falling for Fang. I regretted saying what I had said before, but he must have known. I wouldn't have let him go on kissing me like that.

We got out of our cab in front of the Bellagio's fountain. Fang and I stopped at the railing as one of the fountain shows started. Now that the sun had set, it was chilly. Fang drew his arm around, apologizing he hadn't given me a warmer jacket. When the song ended and the water in the fountain settled, I turned towards him, feeling his face inches from mine.

I kissed him first this time. When we broke apart, we were breathless.

"Shall we go to our room?" he asked, slipping his hand into mine again.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out.

"Why?" He sounded confused.

"I didn't…I didn't mean what I said before. I know that's why you were upset. I'm sorry I upset you."

He squeezed my hand. "You don't have to apologize."

I felt myself blush and he laughed. "C'mon, it's cold."

As I lay in bed that night with Fang's arms around me, I finally felt at peace. There was no other place I wanted to be other than where he was. I realized that I never knew happiness before this, and it was a relief to know that I no longer had to feel hopeless.

"Goodnight," he whispered, kissing my neck.

"Night, Fang."

For once in a long time, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>Fang was in a great mood during his book signing the next day. Not that he wasn't always happy to be around the fans here. Even the fans who recognized him as we were walking to dinner afterwards he didn't mind stopping for pictures and autographs. Usually when he was tired, they would annoy him.<p>

"You're in an awfully good mood today," Mal commented as we sat down for dinner in our hotel.

"Is that a crime?" Fang remarked.

Before she could answer, he started to read me the menu.

"So what do you want?" He said when he had finished.

I blinked. "What?"

He let out a chuckle and pressed his leg against mine under the table.

"Oh, uhm…" I had gotten lost listening to him. "Whatever you're getting."

The next month went by like that. We had few nights alone in hotels and more sleepless hours on the road going from one place to the next. Every now and then we'd have a stolen moment behind Dylan or Mal's back. Finally Thanksgiving came though, and we had a five day break in Chicago.

"Is there going to be a kitchen in the room? Because I'll cook for us," I said to Fang as we got in the elevator.

"That sounds great." He took my hand. "Booked us a suite with a full kitchen. We can go to the grocery store after we drop our bags off."

But as soon as we entered our room, he pushed me up against the wall and crushed his lips against mine. I ran my fingers through his hair.

"We can get food later," I murmured as he started to kiss my neck.

He smiled against me and began to undo my belt. Then went my zipper. We left my pants there in the hallway and made our way into the bedroom after bumping into a few walls. I heard him unzip his pants after he pushed me into the bed. The weight of his belt made an audible thud on the floor.

"Damn these buttons," he murmured. "Should've worn a t-shirt."

After a brief pause he pushed himself on top of me. His touch seemed electrifying now. I pulled him down, finding his lips.

"I was going to ask you if you were ok with this," he laughed after a let him go.

I gave him a grin and he pulled the blankets over us. His hands ran down my chest and then to my legs. He spread them and then thrust himself forward with a grunt.

His lips were at my neck again. I shut my eyes, taking in all the sensations. Fang's mouth moved to mine and I slipped my tongue into his. He let out a moan, his pace quickening. I gripped the sheets above me.

"Iggy…" He leaned forward to kiss me again.

"Don't…stop…" I sucked in a breath. "Oh…Fang…"

Fang let out a grunt and then collapsed on me. I could feel him smile against my chest.

* * *

><p>My cellphone woke me the next morning. Fang and I were still entangled in each other. I was surprised he didn't wake when I went to get my phone out of my pants in the hallway.<p>

"Hello?" I answered groggily.

"Sorry to wake you." It was Max. "I just wanted to say Happy Thanksgiving. Dylan just got back last night. How're things going with Fang? Dylan says you two seem to be getting along."

"Um, yeah, you could say that." Getting along was an understatement judging by last night. I almost laughed. "Well, actually, Fang and I…"

"I'm glad things worked out," Max said. It sounded like she was smiling, to my relief.

I felt myself blush. She could tell just from the way I was speaking.

"Thanks, Max."

"Tell him I said hi." There was some shouting in the background. "Ok, gotta go. We have to figure out how to cook without you."

"Good luck." There was a click and call was over. I put my phone down on the counter and went back to the bedroom.

"Who's that?" Fang grumbled as he snuggled against me.

I rested an arm around him. "It was Max. She says hi and happy Thanksgiving."

"I'll call her later." Fang yawned. "We should go out soon to get our food before stuff starts to closer early."

Part of me wanted to stay in bed all day with him, but I was starving and I wanted to cook. We got out of bed slowly and changed. Then Fang cleaned up our clothes from last night.

"Alright, shall we go?" he asked as he took my hand.

* * *

><p>We almost burned the turkey. Fang and I had got a little caught up in ourselves again. I was surprised we didn't set the smoke alarm off after we opened the oven.<p>

"It smells delicious," Fang commented.

I let out a sigh. "I sure hope it tastes that way."

He put his arms around me and then pressed my hand to his face. Fang was smiling. "We still have potatoes and stuffing."

"What's Thanksgiving without turkey?"

"It's still the same if you have something to be thankful for." Then he pulled me down into a kiss. I almost forgot I was taller than him.

"Now sit," he said as he pushed me into a chair. "I'm starving."

I could only smile now. I mean, how could you not?

* * *

><p><strong>Putting this note at the end of all my chapters for the next week or so. Sorry if you've seen it already: I finished Nevermore. I thought it was a brilliant ending for the series, but I won't go into much detail now. If anyone wants to share thoughts, feel free to message me.<strong>

**But yeah, the series is over. It's a lot of emotions, but most of them good and some of them bittersweet. I feel that there's still a lot more to be said in the fanfiction universe about this series, so as long as people are still reading, I'll still be writing. New ideas are spinning already.**

**Until my next update! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Coffee and Cigarettes – Chapter 5**

By MyNameIsCAL

After spending the past few days alone with Fang, I thought I was going to go insane sitting in the RV with Mal. Sure we fooled around, but we talked to. Just laid in bed and talked about everything and nothing. We'd get up to cook and eat. Fang even put on some music and we danced across the bedroom. I was waiting for Fang to pull over and kick Mal out again, but Dylan had made him promise he wouldn't do that.

"So how was your Thanksgiving?" Mal asked me.

"It was good," I replied. "Yours?"

"Great." She didn't sound very convincing though. "I can't believe you spent a whole five days with Fang."

I frowned. "Just because you don't get along with him doesn't mean I don't too."

"You're all too nice to him," Mal grumbled. "Even Dylan. After what he did to Max—"

"You don't know a single thing about Fang or any of us."

"I know enough to tell you that Fang's the world's biggest asshole." Mal hadn't changed her tune about Fang since the last time I had to listen to her.

"Shut up, Mal," I finally snapped. "I'm not going to sit here for the next hour and listen to you complain."

Then I rose out of my seat and made my way to the front of the RV to sit with Fang.

"I've been trying not to listen," Fang said quietly. "But I heard 'asshole' and I think it was directed at me."

"No, she was talking about herself."

Fang chuckled and squeezed my hand. As angry as I was at Mal, I was smiling like an idiot.

Unfortunately our time alone became nonexistent. Dylan had joined us in the RV and between now and Christmas, the four of us would all be together. This was the busiest part of the tour, so we had few stops at hotels. At least Dylan was trying to keep Mal in check.

"I know you're not going to like this," Dylan said. "But we're going to have to share a suite."

Fang let out a heavy sigh. Although lately he seemed more tolerant of Mal. Then again, it was only because of me.

"There's two bedrooms and a sitting room. Mal will get one bedroom, I'll sleep on the couch, and you and Iggy can have the other bedroom," Dylan said. "We don't even have to see each other."

Fang said nothing, so Dylan retreated to the back of the RV.

* * *

><p>Sharing a bedroom meant having dinner with Dylan and Mal too. I insisted on cooking dinner, hoping it would brighten Fang's mood and because I was tired of eating crappy food. Although he seemed to be taking the whole situation very well.<p>

"This is great, Ig," Fang said through a mouthful of food.

He rested his leg against mine under the table and I had to suppress a smile.

After Fang finished eating, he retreated to the bedroom. I hung around, thinking it probably wouldn't look too good if we both went at the same time.

"I don't get why he's so nice to you," Mal remarked as soon as he left.

"Mal, give it a rest." Dylan got up and started to collect the dishes. "You're not exactly nice to him either."

"What are you talking about?"

"Will you show Fang some respect? If you did, he'd be a lot nicer to you."

"Respect Fang? You're kidding, right?"

If this had been another place and time, I might have socked Mal right there. Thankfully, she got up and left.

"Why can't you fire her?" I asked Dylan.

He sat back down at the table. "Because I owe someone a favor."

"Well she's certainly never going to get a job like yours if she acts like this."

"That's why this is a favor. Her father's some big shot in the publishing industry. Picks up only the best books. Basically, he's my boss and I can't say no. He's actually a great guy. Loves Fang's books and everything too."

"I guess Mal doesn't take after him," I smirked.

"No, apparently not."

"Alright, well, I'm going to get ready for bed. Goodnight, Dylan."

"Night, Iggy."

Fang was in bed already when I entered the bedroom. He told me my clothes were in the bathroom already. I showered and then climbed into bed.

"I missed this," he said as he wrapped his arms around me.

"Me too."

He kissed me goodnight and then we drifted off to sleep. Too tired to talk.

* * *

><p>"Fang! Get up! We gotta be out of here in an hour!" Dylan knocked on the door.<p>

Fang grunted in reply.

Eventually we got out of bed. Fang went out to the balcony to have a quick smoke.

"Come out here for a minute," he said.

I stepped through the door. It was chilly, but his arms came around me and I soon forget I was cold at all.

"Two more weeks then it'll be Christmas," he said, almost in a whisper. "I was thinking we could spend it in the city. Rent an apartment for the week. Cook, stay in bed, maybe some fine dining."

"That sounds wonderful." I grinned at him and then kissed him.

"Fang! We gotta go _now_!" Dylan's voice seemed so far away.

If Dylan hadn't called for us, we may never have left the hotel at all.

* * *

><p>Waking up in the morning to Mal was my least favorite. It was the last day we would have to do it though, at least until the tour started up again after the New Year. Fang was halfway done now.<p>

The four of us were sitting around the table in the RV eating cereal without milk. Fang was holding my hand under the table, seemingly unaffected by Mal's inappropriate and disrespectful remarks about not having a real breakfast to eat.

"Iggy and I are going to get coffee," Fang announced in the middle of Mal's sentence.

"We have to start driving to New York City already. There might be traffic," Mal snapped.

"Get me some." Dylan had stopped trying to reason with Mal now. "Don't take too long though."

I feel like we flew out of the door. Then Fang stopped mid step behind the RV.

"One more thing," he said.

"Wha-"

Whenever he kissed me like that, just out of the blue, I felt like melting. I didn't want to stop kissing him. In fact, I almost forgot we were in public. Fang's hands came around my arms to stop me.

"Sorry, someone's coming." He straightened my jacket. "C'mon, let's get coffee before Dylan comes looking for us."


	6. Chapter 6

**Coffee and Cigarettes – Chapter 6**

By MyNameIsCAL

I would say there's nothing like a New York City Christmas, but we spent most of our break inside cooking and in bed. I don't think I had smiled and laughed as much as I did from Christmas to New Year's. Tonight was New Year's Eve and we were in the apartment waiting for the countdown. There was a sudden popping sound and then fizzing.

"Champagne," he told me. "There's about a minute left."

"You don't gotta get me drunk to get me in bed," I joked.

Fang chuckled. "I know."

The countdown had started. He took a seat next to me on the bed. We started at the last five seconds.

"Happy New Year!" I felt myself grin.

Fang took my hand. I felt him slide off the bed next to me.

"Iggy, I know it's only been a short while, but I think you'd agree that these past few months have been fantastic together. And everything about it. Everything about us feels right." He slipped something soft and rectangular into my hand. "But I think it's time. Iggy, will you marry me?"'

He opened the box and something cold and silver brushed up against my fingertips.

I sucked in a breath, feeling a little overwhelmed. A smile grew across my face. I nodded before I managed to say yes. Fang slipped the ring on my finger and pulled me into a kiss.

And that, perhaps, was one of the single most greatest moments of my life.

* * *

><p>There was no denying that we would have to tell the flock about us. Maybe in the beginning that seemed impossible to do, but now it seemed like telling them would finally lift all the weight we had put on our own shoulders. We'd start with Dylan though. That made the most sense since he would have to prepare to deal with the media once Fang decided it was time to tell his fans.<p>

Dylan and Mal were coming to the apartment today for dinner before we set off on the road again. I had cooked a few things, mostly just to keep us from not being hungry until dinner time. Fang had brought me out to breakfast earlier. Some quiet café tucked away in some side street.

"Are you sure you want to tell Mal?" Fang asked me.

I sat at the table, running my fingers over the ring that was on my finger. "She's going to find out sooner or later. Maybe it'll be an act of good faith. Maybe she'll lighten up."

Fang sat down next to me. "I sure hope so."

There was a knock on the door and Fang got up to let Dylan and Mal in. They came and sat at the table and Fang poured them some coffee. We exchanged some small talk until Fang had put all the food on the table and Mal asked what Fang wanted to talk about.

Fang cleared his throat. "There's something Iggy and I have to tell you. And maybe this is kind of an explanation why I left all those years ago. You have to understand that I left for Max and I left for you, Dylan. But I guess I was too much of a coward to say anything. I only just told Max a few months ago, so now it's time for you to know. But I'm gay. And over these past few months, Iggy and I managed to fall for each other. I know that sounds crazy, but you know I'm tired of keeping secrets, Dylan. And eventually I'll have to tell my fans."

Dylan blinked a few times. "Well, I mean, I was expecting for you to tell me something about some new book or whatever." He let out a laugh. "I mean, I'm happy for you guys, really. That's great."

Fang's tension seem to let up, and then Mal stood up.

"Are you kidding me?" she scoffed. "You're going to be happy for them?"

Dylan let out a breath. "Mal, will you calm down? You think you understand us, but you don't. You think you get what we've been through, how hard it's been to have somewhat normal lives after what we had to experience. So get out. GET OUT!"

That might have been the first time ever I had heard Dylan raise his voice. Mal started to walk away, and then turned. There was a loud _smack_ and then she walked away again.

"Dylan, are you ok?"

Dylan only laughed. "I think I've been slapped before."

Fang chuckled a little.

Dylan started to put food onto his plate. "But really, thank you for telling me. What's next? The rest of the flock?"

"Yes, and then I supposed I ought to make an announcement to my fans. Nothing big. I have to think about it."

Dylan seemed supportive, and I guess that was what counted. We had already forgotten about Mal.

* * *

><p>The tour went on. Things were more relaxed now between us and Dylan. We were having meals together regularly now. One night we had even video called the flock over the Internet to tell them. Support was what they gave us. Every day seemed easier than the last. All that baggage we had created for ourselves as finally being shed.<p>

In March, we were nearing the end of the tour. Our last stop was in a small independent bookstore that was in the town we lived in. We had spent the last few weeks deciding how Fang would deliver his statement to his fans, but it only seemed right to do it in the town we lived in. We arrived about an hour early to the book signing. Fang sat and signed books for all the employees and posed for pictures. The flock came early too. It had been the first time we had seen them since we had told them. I had been anxious at first, but Fang insisted there was nothing but smiles going around.

A line had formed outside and the doors of the bookstore were finally opened. I sat with the flock in the front row. Fang was still in the break room finishing up his coffee and chatting with the employees. Dylan sat between Max and me.

"Are you gonna miss being on the go?" Dylan asked me.

I shook my head. "I'm looking forward to spending time at home with you guys and Fang."

"Good, because I miss your cooking," Max commented.

Dylan leaned a little closer to me. "My boss is here today. You know, Mal's dad. He said he was surprised we dealt with Mal for so long."

"You mean we could have gotten rid of her sooner?"

Dylan elbowed me in the side and I suppressed a laugh.

The manager of the bookstore began to quiet the room. He introduced Fang to almost thunderous applause.

"Well, I suppose I don't have to introduce myself," Fang remarked.

The crowd laughed.

Fang chuckled and then cleared his throat. "Well, you're all very lucky because this is the last stop of my book tour and the town that my family lives in. I guess the closest thing to a hometown that I can have."

There was more clapping.

"Anyways, before I get to reading a passage and signing your books, I have an announcement to make. It's an announcement that I hope not too many other people will have to make because one day, I hope it won't matter. That we can just say that we love someone and whatever their gender is doesn't matter." Fang paused for a moment. "But I am gay. And I want you, the fans, to hear it from me first before you hear it from the tabloids and the media. Because I owe it to you. You're the reason I keep writing. You're the reason I'm here today."

I thought I was going to have to hold my breath, but the crowd erupted in applause again. Fang thanked them profusely.

"Your support really means the world to me." His voice sounded shaky. "I guess I wasn't expecting this kind of—"

_BOOM!_

We suddenly went flying forward.

"Iggy!" The voice sounded distant.

It had been a bomb. I hadn't realized it until I smelled the smoke and then another explosion went off. Something fell next to me. I staggered to my feet.

"Fang!" I called out.

It took me a few seconds to orient myself. Someone grabbed me. It was Dylan, maybe.

"C'mon, Ig. Fang's ok."

We broke out into open air. Someone else grabbed my other arm.

"Hey, are you ok?" It was Fang.

"Yeah, fine." His voice still sounded so far away. "Are you ok?"

"I'm ok, don't you worry." He led me over somewhere and then made me sit. "I gotta go help people get—"

_Whoosh!_

Fang pushed me backwards. "Get down! Everyone get—"

_WHOOSH!_

He dropped beside me. Sirens wailed in the distance.

"Fang!"

Four hands grabbed me. I tried to break away, but something hit me in the face and everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

**Coffee and Cigarettes – Chapter 7**

By MyNameIsCAL

- From Fang's Personal Writings (Fang's POV)-

When I woke up in the hospital, it was Max who was beside my bed. She took my hand and I gave it a weak squeeze.

"Fang…"

"Where's Iggy?"

She swallowed. "Someone took him, Fang. You were the last person to see him."

I shut my eyes. I pretty much blacked out getting shot.

"They're looking for him. There wasn't any evidence that he got hurt at the scene. They haven't found anything, but they're trying. The FBI thinks it's someone who has a personal grudge against you. You were the only person that got shot by the sniper." Max squeezed my hand.

"How long have I been out?"

"A few days. You got shot in the leg twice. You're lucky you didn't lose it." Max shook her head. "Even with your healing capabilities, the doctor doesn't think you'll be walking anytime soon."

No wonder my leg felt like it had been ripped off.

"The FBI says since whoever attacked didn't kill you, that there's a good chance Iggy's still alive."

"Whoever attacked wants to torture me."

Max didn't say anything, but I knew in her silence she was agreeing.

* * *

><p>I had to spend a week and a half in the hospital. Dylan and I arranged to donate money to the families that were affected. By the end of the week the media had reported I spent half my fortune to help families get the best medical care and afford to bury their loved ones. Dylan told me that wasn't true, but I wouldn't have cared anyway. I would have given the clothes off my back if it would have helped. It was the least I could do. It was my fault anyone had to get hurt. I should have been dead, not them. I made a brief video from my hospital bed to all those affected telling them that I was here if anyone needed help. All they had to do was reach out. And I told them how sorry I was, that I knew nothing I did would make any of what happened better.<p>

"No one's blaming you, Fang," Dylan told me as he wheeled me out of the elevator and into the hospital lobby. "The media's been rooting for you, alright?"

I nodded and he pushed me through the doors.

There was a crowd outside. At first I thought it was a hoard of news reporters, but then I realized it was more than reporters. It was the families I had seen on the news who had loved ones who died in the attack. Maybe even some of the survivors. Faces I recognized seeing at the bookstore before the explosions.

A man stepped forward from the crowd. It was the owner of the bookstore, Kent Burke. He took my hands in his.

"I'm gonna rebuild the bookstore with the money you gave us," he told me with a shaky voice. "We gotta show those sick sons of a bitches that we're stronger than them. I speak on behalf of all these people here that we're here for you. I know you're probably feeling like you're the one to blame, but you're not. You lost someone just like the rest of us here, and there's no way any of us would have gotten through without your generosity. And there's no way any of us are going to get through this without each other. You gotta believe if it takes an angry mob to rampage the town to get Iggy back, we'll all be there for you."

The crowd began to whoop and clap. Kent was crying now, and I realized I was too. It was because of that moment I knew I couldn't give up on Iggy. He was out there, and if they all believed I had to believe too.

* * *

><p>I sat in my kitchen with Max and Dylan. We had gone through a bunch of letters from fans all over the country offering support. Even some letters from those who were there or had lost loved ones. Yet there was one letter that sat in front of all of us.<p>

"We have to call the police, Fang." Max touched my arm. "Fang…"

"They're torturing him…" I shut my eyes. "I'm gonna be sick…"

Max and Dylan managed to get me to the bathroom before my stomach lurched. I tried to push the letter out of my head.

"I want air," I managed to say.

They lifted me and sat me down outside where I used to write and smoke. I leaned against the table and closed my eyes.

"Can I have a minute?"

"Of course." Max squeezed my shoulder and they headed back inside.

Whoever had Iggy had written the letter in blood. Perhaps the only saving grace was that they said they were going to keep him alive.

"Alive to torture him," I muttered. "Goddamnit."

I smoked a cigarette and wheeled myself to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I came out, Max was waiting.

"Dylan called Agent Benson," she told me.

"Tell him I said thanks." I hesitated. "I think I'm gonna go to bed, Max. You and Dylan are welcome to the guest room. Or whatever room. You don't have to stay."

"We have Jack's funeral tomorrow. Dylan and I were planning to stay anyways."

Jack: Dylan's boss, Mal's dad, and my publisher. God, I hadn't seen Mal since she stormed out. She might have deserved that, but she didn't deserve to lose her father.

"You should get some sleep." Max could tell I was thinking too much. "C'mon, I'll help you into bed."

PAGE BREAK!

Jack had been standing right next to one of the bombs. The publishing company was at a standstill now. There was talk that people wanted Dylan to take over, but we hadn't spoke about it. His wife had not made any comment, but the company was probably left to her.

I was sitting in the car with Max, waiting for Dylan to come out and drive us to the church.

"I'm going to stand at the funeral today. For the media." I leaned my head against the window, hoping its coolness would soothe me a little. "To show whoever's got Iggy that I haven't given up."

Any other time, Max would have protested. Instead she nodded.

Dylan finally got into the car. He turned to face me. "It's probably best we avoid Mal. She might not be taking this well at all."

I hadn't even thought of that. I hadn't seen her since Dylan had his outburst and she stormed out.

"You know, she emailed me a few days after she hit me," Dylan said after a while. "Apologizing. She said she wanted to apologize to you in person though, so, I don't know. We were so busy with coming back home it slipped my mind."

"I guess we'll see then."

The media had already formed a perimeter around the church. Dylan stopped the car in front of the church.

"You'd better get out here. I'll park so you don't have to go as far," he let out a breath.

I opened the door and managed to get on my feet with my crutches. Max rushed around the car. Just then, it started to rain. The media seemed to back off for a second to cover their cameras. We made it inside before they could heckle us any further.

* * *

><p>I stood next to Max at the cemetery. She took my free arm and slung it around her shoulders, saying that it looked like I was about to collapse. I shook my head, but felt a lot better now that she was taking some of my weight. Dylan stood behind us, holding an umbrella in an attempt to shield us from the pouring rain.<p>

"I'd say I'd go to the car to get your wheelchair, but the media's got this place swarmed," Dylan murmured.

It was true. Cops had created a radius around us. We were listening to the priest speak now. I closed my eyes for a minute, hoping the ground would stop spinning. We had only been standing for fifteen minutes, but it was already but the pain was already taking its toll on me. Dylan put a hand around my other arm.

Of course there were more tears. Even Dylan was having a hard time trying to keep it together. I don't know how much time went by, but we were finally trying to make our way back to the car. As they lowered Jack into the ground, I realized how uncertain the future really was. After all, he had been my biggest supporter from the beginning. I never thought I'd make a living off writing.

The cops were trying to hold reporters off, but a group of them had managed to break the barricade. One of them had managed to make it to Mal.

"Hold on a sec." I took my arm back from Max and stepped out of the cover of the umbrella. "Hey! Hey you leave her alone! You wanna ask some questions? You can ask me. Leave her alone!"

The distraction gave Mal enough time to slip past them. As the reporters made their way towards me, our eyes met for just a moment. At the time, I took it as our way of apologizing to each other.

I let the reporters bombard me with questions and then answered a few of them. Only the ones about me, nothing about Iggy or the accident really. Then Dylan shooed them away and Max got me back into the car before I collapsed.

"That was, um, brave of you." Dylan said as he started to drive away.

I closed my eyes and didn't answer. Dylan and Max didn't have the heart to wake me when I got home, so they carried me to the couch.

PAGE BREAK!

It was almost three in the morning when I woke up. My body ached from standing for so long. Luckily, Max or Dylan had left my wheelchair next to the couch. I managed to get myself in it and wheel myself out to the balcony. Spring hadn't quite come yet, and I shivered as I wheeled outside.

I took out a cigarette and lit it. I thought I might kick this habit, but now it seemed like an impossibility to let go of. It was one of the few things left between me falling back into a depression. These past couple of months without taking medication had been so refreshing, but it was because of Iggy.

"So I'm finally catching you."

I looked up to see Max take a seat next to me.

"You always knew," I murmured.

"Of course. I'm just glad it's not something else."

"Like alcohol?" I offered.

"Yeah, or hardcore drugs." She sighed.

"I'll quit."

"I know, Fang."

We sat in silence for a while. In another place and time I would have stopped smoking the moment Max came out, but it was different now.

"You made the news." Max shook her head, a smile growing. "You know how it is with you and the public. Everything you do is gold."

"It should be that way with anyone in my position." I frowned.


End file.
